


You Are My Second Chance

by Anniecat



Category: The Maze Runner (Movies), The Maze Runner Series - All Media Types, The Maze Runner Series - James Dashner
Genre: M/M, hospital administrator!thomas, iidk i came up with this cutting potatoes, veteran!newt
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-09-27
Updated: 2015-10-04
Packaged: 2018-04-23 14:50:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,040
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4880989
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anniecat/pseuds/Anniecat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He comes in the middle of the night. A soldier barely rescued from an explosion killing his entire squad. But while the rest of the hospital staff doesn't have much hope for Isaac Newton, Thomas is willing to give him a chance.</p><p>Aka that au where Thomas works at hospital as a glorified secretary and Newt is an ex Marine who's been through hell.</p><p>NOTE: First two chapters are shitty, i did not proof read them</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So like, not all of this will be medically accurate, probs because the only knowledge I have of medical things is what I've seen on House. So bear with me, and is factual inaccuracy of medical topics bothers you, don't read this.

Thomas had seen his fair share of blood. After all, he was a hospital administrator. But after seeing the incoming patient being rushed off of the helicopter, he felt like he needed to puke. The man was fresh out of combat; covered in burns and blood, Thomas could barely tell that he was human. He could only get a few glances at the man before Brenda pushed him out of the hall, on her way to get the man into surgery, but even three hours later, while he was getting ready to leave, Thomas couldn't get the man out of his mind.

Thomas had read the file on him later, after he couldn't get the image of him writhing on the gurney out of his brain. His name was Isaac Newton, twenty-five years old, just a year older than Thomas. Isaac was in the Marines, but he had a degree in some sort of science Thomas couldn't pronounce from Stanford. There wasn't much else on him, just bits of medical history and allergies. As he was flipping through the pages, Minho looked over his shoulder.

"Ah, looking at Newton? Don't think he'll be here long," he regarded, a bit sadly. Thomas looked behind him.  "Huh? Why?" He said a bit frantically. Minho raised his eyebrow, as if Thomas was asking if the sky was blue. "Guy's entire squad was killed in an explosion. He made it out, but now he's looking like that and we've gotta amputate his right leg. I wouldn't be surprised if he kills himself before he gets out of here. I've seen it happen before." His friend looked down solemnly. "Well, he's under sedation now, and will probably be in a chemically induced coma for a few days. You know, so he doesn't have to be awake for that pain for the first few days. Then we'll wake him up and put him on morphine," the young doctor said. Thomas nodded. 

"Hey, look, I'm not Agnes. I haven't gotten into the shanks head and stuff. But if you ask me, Isaac Newton won't be here for long." The name resonated with him. Isaac Newton. He knew it from somewhere, and not just the scientist. It was almost as if he knew him from somewhere. 

As soon as he got home, he typed his the name into Google search bar. After wading through pages and pages of websites about gravity and apples, he finally found a news article from eight years ago. "Young Genius Isaac Newton Graduates from Stanford with PHD at Age 17".

That was it. He remembered his teachers telling him about Isaac when he was sixteen; apparently he used to be from his town. Thomas could remember the teachers going on and on about him, that they used to teach Isaac when he was eleven, and now he was famous. Thomas tried to compare the smiling boy in the picture to the bloody man on the operating table. He couldn't think of any similarities. Thomas also couldn't think of why a promising new astrometerologist would end up in the U.S. Marines. The two field were nothing alike. But Thomas had no actual judgement. He became a hospital administrator after he fainted during an anatomy lab. He was aiming to be a doctor, but after the incident, Thomas thought his talents would be better suited on the sidelines. Dr. Newton must've had the opposite reaction. And after he searched "Isaac Newton astrometerologist", there were way more results. However, knowing that he had to wake up early, Thomas refrained from clicking any of the webpages and went to bed.

***********************************************************************

"But did you know that guy was a _genius?_ I mean, technically, we should be calling him _Doctor_ Newton, not Mr.!" Thomas exclaimed to Winston, one of Isaac's surgeons, during his lunch break. Winston shrugged.

"Whatever that guy was before, he definitely isn't him now. We had to remove so much shrapnel from him, you would've thought he was a junkyard. Seriously, so much. It took hours," Winston complained, clearly shaken by last night's surgery. 

"Is he gonna make it? You know, like, health-wise, not, I don't know, mind wise." Winston gave Thomas a vague nod.

"Depends. Physically, yes, he could get better, but I don't know, you kinda have to want to get better. That guy was overseas with that squad for years, and he's the only one who made it out. He's been through a lot. I wouldn't blame him for giving up." Thomas was actually a bit appalled on how the doctors were acting about Newton. They were always optimistic about patients, no matter how damaged they were. But none of them, even Teresa, the on-site psychologist, was feeling that way about the soldier. “What’s your deal with him anyway? I haven’t seen you get so worked up about anyone like this before.” 

Winston made an excellent point. Why did he care so much? Thomas remembered hearing about him in school, but he didn’t think he’d ever actually met him. And there were plenty of trauma victims that filtered through the hospital. He wasn’t that special to Thomas in anyway. So why did it feel like he was?

“I don’t know, man. Maybe it was because I saw him coming in, you know? I’m normally not around for that part,” Thomas himself didn’t believe that answer. He never cared this much. Never. He couldn’t, people died in hospitals all the time. Attachment was a feeling Thomas wasn’t used to. Winston yawned, apparently still tired from the 4 hour surgery from the night before.

“Well, whatever it is, I’ve gotta do a little pre-op for him before Frypan gets in for the burns, and then I get to go home. So I’ll keep you posted, all right?” The surgeon said to Thomas before leaving. Thomas blankly nodded, staring ahead of him.

“Yeah, for sure.” Winston went to leave when Thomas remembered something. “Hey, can you get me when he wakes up? I want to talk to him,” he requested. Winston twisted his face.

“I don’t know man, Agnes probably won’t let you in, but I’ll see what I can do, okay?” Thomas grinned and nodded.

“Perfect.”

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok just so u know, Newt's reffered to as "Isaac" a lot in this chapter, don't worry, it's still newt. :)

It had been a few days since Isaac’s arrival, which meant that he should be woken up soon. He had been through three different surgeries in the past five days, not including the first one. The guy was on so many painkillers, Thomas wasn’t one hundred percent sure that he knew his name, let alone anything else, but Thomas was still willing to try talking to him. And maybe he would be more loosened on painkillers, and more willing to open up. But after talking to Teresa, his chances of being in the same room as him was unlikely.

“Thomas, I know you mean well, but so many people talking to him might be overwhelming. I don’t think it’s a good idea for you to be talking to him,” She advised. Thomas frowned, unhappy with the psychologist’s answer.

“But, I don’t know, we’re from the same town. Maybe he remembers me,” he reasoned. Teresa shook her head.

“Probably not, especially with the amount of painkillers he’s on I’d be surprised if he was able to remember the name of his hometown, let alone someone he’s probably never met.” Thomas looked down, defeated. Teresa was right. He’d rather never meet the guy than destroy the remaining pieces of the guy’s mental health. But that didn’t mean he had to be happy about it.

“Alright, fine. But I do have to talk to him for the holes in his medical history.” Thomas held up a clipboard with Isaac’s file on it. This part wasn’t even a lie, Isaac was missing quite a bit of information, and most of it was pretty important. Teresa sighed.

“Fine, you get the information, but I’m in the room with you, and you’re not allowed to ask any personal question that aren’t on that sheet, alright?” Thomas grinned, and nodded. That’s all he needed, a few minutes with him, and there was a surprising amount of questions on this sheet that Thomas had himself. Teresa turned to leave. “He’ll be awake at two. I’m gonna give him an hour to get a little more adjusted, and then you can come get your answers.”

******************************************************************************************************

Honestly, Thomas was a bit scared to see the soldier. He wasn’t squeamish, not anymore, he just felt so sorry for the poor guy whenever he saw him. He had gotten a few more glances over the past week through the window of his room. Isaac was bandaged like a mummy, and the bits of skin Thomas _could_ see were bright red with third degree burns. Most of his face was burned, about a quarter of his blonde hair had been seared off too. And Thomas couldn’t even fathom how much pain the poor guy was in.

When Teresa opened the door to his room, Thomas could now understand why the doctors were so unoptimistic about him. Isaac had an aura of sadness around him that brought down Thomas’ mood as soon as he stepped near him. Thomas grabbed a chair and sat down next to him.

“Alright, Mr. Newton, this is Thomas, one of our senior patient coordinators, he needs some missing information that your forms don’t have. Is that okay?” Teresa informed, carefully stepping over her words. Isaac, who Thomas previously thought had been asleep, opened his non-swollen eye.

“Patient coordinator? Isn’t that just a fancy term for secretary?” Isaac remarked in a strangled English accent. Teresa opened her mouth to protest, but Thomas beat her to a reply.

“Yeah, pretty much. Except I have a degree to do it,” Thomas admitted. The corners of Isaac’s lips lifted a bit, like he was trying to smile.

“Alright Tommy, ask your questions. And make it quick, I have to lie like a vegetable later,” the man joked. Thomas giggled.

“Do you have any allergies to any medicines? Any past related medical experiences? Have you ever had any past surgeries that could be a problem with any of our future operations?” Thomas read off quickly, tapping his pen to the clipboard.

“No allergies, no, I have never been in an explosion before, and I had my appendix out five years ago, I think. And for the love of God himself, if you call me Mr. Newton or Isaac one more time, I’ll kill you,” He listed. Thomas scrawled down the answers he had listed.

“Alright, what should I call you then?” Thomas asked. The patient swallowed.

“Newt. It’s what everyone called me before, so they wouldn’t confuse me with the scientist,” Newt explained. Thomas made a quick note at the top of the paper that said ‘Preferred to be called Newt’, and underlined it. “What did you say your name was again?” Newt asked him, turning his head slightly to make tired eye contact between the two of them.

“Thomas. Thomas Greenwick,” He said quickly. Newt’s brow furrowed.

“I know you, don’t I? You’re from Clearwater, aren’t you?” Newt said in an accusatory tone. Thomas raised his eyebrows, surprised that Newt was able to identify him.

“Yeah, I am. How did you know? I mean I don’t think I’ve ever _met_ you before, how did you remember me?” Newt sighed, and lifted a hand to brush a stray lock of blond hair out of his brown eyes.

“I knew you. You lived across the street from me, before I moved. We didn’t see each other much, but our parents made us play sometimes. I doubt you’d remember, you were pretty young, but I’ve got an eidetic memory and all, and I remembered vocalization patterns of yours. They don’t change with age, you know. Yours were very, distinct,” Newt explained. Thomas had forgotten about that. But he did have a faint memory of a little blond boy across the street, from a very long time ago.

“Well, that was most of the information I was missing. Thanks, it will make surgery scheduling go way faster. Goodbye, Newt.” Thomas lifted the chair he was using back into the place he found it. Teresa was holding the door open for Thomas. He was about to leave and get back to work, when he heard the strangled English accent speak again.

“Thomas?” Thomas turned his head.

“Yeah?” Newt cleared his throat.

“Can you come back?” He asked nonchalantly, but he could also see a bit of pleading in his strained expression.

“Of course.” Thomas smiled and left the ward.


	3. Chapter 3

At Teresa's request, Thomas started to meet with Newt almost everyday. Newt refused to meet unless Teresa wasn't in the room, which made the psychologist weary, but if it got him to open up, she was more than pleased. When he saw Newt, he didn't talk about much, certainly not anything about his squad or the Marines, but he did get passionate about astronomy and other space related topics, which Thomas thought was a start to a long process of therapeutic healing.

 

“Heard you and Newton are getting friendly,” Minho said the next week the minute he spotted Thomas. Thomas rolled his eyes and handed Minho the file he needed for another patient.

“He likes to talk to me. I think Teresa scares him a little,” Thomas said, returning to his desk, while Minho continued to smirk down on him.

“Teresa scares everyone. But more like, they’re scared into telling her what they feel, not shutting them up. I think he’s got a thing for you,” Minho taunted. Thomas scowled.

“No, he doesn’t. I think he’s just lonely, and he knows me. I mean, I don’t know him, but apparently we used to be friends when we were…” Thomas began to ramble, until he noticed Minho’s disinterested glare. “Whatever, it’s complicated. But no, I don’t think he has a  thing  for me.” Minho shrugged.

“I guess if you say so. Anyway, what are you doing for lunch today? I have a bet with Brenda right now that I can convince Janson that there are literally no patients that need operations. If I win, she’s paying for all of us.” Thomas raised an eyebrow.

“But there  are  patients that need operations,” Thomas chided, knowing this fact specifically, namely because he had personally scheduled them. Minho scoffed.

“Come on man, none of them are time sensitive! This is where I need you. Say there was a staffing error, or something. I need to win this bet, Thomas. Brenda has won the last seven, that’s too many,” Minho pleaded. Thomas sighed, and spun in his chair so he could reach a certain record behind him.

“Do you know how much we could be sued if any of those people found out why their surgeries were  actually  postponed? And even so, I already made plans.” The last few words sparked Minho’s interest.

“Ah ha! So you are seeing Private Ryan today!"” Thomas turned a rosy color. He frowned.

“No, with Teresa. And “Private Ryan”? Have you even seen that movie?” Thomas accused. Minho turned slightly and shrugged.

“No, it was just the first soldier I could come up with. But don’t tell me that you’re not  discussing the guy with her. You don’t like Agnes, she intimidates you.”

“Fine, we are talking about him. But I kind of have to, I’m basically the only therapy the guys getting, so she kind of has to know. And I don’t suppose that lunch bet’s real, is it?” Thomas replied sheepishly. Minho looked distraught.

“The lunch bet is very real. It just was planned at an insanely convenient time where I could get you to admit your lunch plans.” Thomas typed a few things into the computer.

“Look, I can schedule the operations sooner, so you can get done with them faster. Most of them are pretty easy, won’t be more than a few hours each.” Minho grinned.

“I'll take it. And good luck with your relationship counseling!” He called as he turned away

“We’re not in a relationship!” Thomas yelled back. Minho didn't even turn back.

**********************************************

Once he was on break, Thomas immediately went to meet Teresa. He saw her sitting coolly at a table, her black hair tied in a knot and her piercing blue eyes following him closely until he sat down across from her. The only thing she had in her hands was a clipboard, identical to the hundreds of others that were kept in the hospital, and a pen. 

"Hi, Teresa. How are you?" Thomas greeted. 

"Let's cut the chit-chat, I have other things to do after this," she said sternly. Thomas nodded.

"Um, okay then," he obliged. Teresa read the first thing on the clipboard she was holding.

"Okay, has he mentioned anything about his squad?" She asked, focusing her eyes on the paper. Thomas shook his head.

"Nope. He hasn't said anything about them, or about his service at all," he answered politely. Teresa narrowed her eyes a bit in confusion. 

"What do you talk about, then?" She sat perfectly still in her seat, while Thomas' leg bounced up and down.

"Space. Scientific theory. Usual things," Thomas listed. Teresa scribbled a few things down on the sheet. 

"Did he say anything about astrometerology?" She asked, glancing up from her notes.

"No, I don't think so, but honestly I have no idea what that would sound like if I heard it," Thomas admitted. Teresa's blank expression sank, and she sighed slightly.

"It's basically weather in space, it has to do with other planets' atmospheres, it's what he used to do before he was a Marine. If you can get him to talk about that, it would be wonderful," she said dryly. Thomas nodded. "Now, excuse me, I have another appointment to attend. Thank you for your time." Teresa smiled at the end of her sentence, but she still seemed unemotional. Thomas often wondered if she became a psychologist because of this fact. No one could read her emotions, so they never felt like they were being judged. Or maybe she learned to be stone. Either way, Thomas was somehow willing to tell her every feeling he had ever had in his life. It was weird.

Teresa's heels clicked as she moved through the room, and as soon as she left, Thomas pushed in his chair and left the room. Minho was waiting outside the door.

"Wow, that took less time than I expected. Teresa's usually more long winded. Now, time for lunch. I won, and I need my accomplice with me." Minho grabbed Thomas' arm and led him down the hall. As the two passed Newt’s room, Thomas lagged back a little and checked inside the room. Newt was asleep, this time for sure, as indicated by the EKG monitor next to him. Apparently Thomas had paused too long, because he felt his arm forcefully pulled away.

"Come on, you can awake sleeping beauty later, we have a victory lunch to attend." Minho ripped Thomas away from the door and dragged him to the parking lot.


	4. Chapter 4

"It's just, we're able to see so much more with Hubble. Like, we made as much advancement between Galileo looking up to with a telescope rather than the naked eye than with our modern telescopes to Hubble. Before Hubble, we could only make tiny adjustments to what Galileo did," Newt rambled the next time Thomas saw him. Newt was grinning, and moving his hands (as much as he could with the bandages and casts) to try and explain the magic of the Hubble Telescope. Thomas smiled politely, even though he had only understood part of what the other man was saying.

Newt’s other eye had healed, so now Thomas could see both bright, brown irises. More of his burns had healed too; instead of painful blisters and scabs, he had rosy scaring across most of his face and hands. Thomas knew that they had amputated most of his leg, but Newt hadn't said anything about it, so Thomas didn't pry. He desperately didn’t want to take the new sparkle in his eyes away. Not after Teresa had mentioned that he only was like this around Thomas. No doctor had managed to break the barrier Newt built, while he let Thomas in immediately after meeting him. Thomas found it a bit strange, how Newt had clung to him, but he had no complaints.

After Newt finished his speech about the telescope, his smile faded a little and he looked Thomas in the eye. "What are you doing here?" He asked innocently. Thomas narrowed his eyes, confused.

"What do you mean? You asked me to come see you..." Thomas started.

"No, I mean, what are you doing here? In the hospital, I mean, working as a glorified secretary?" Newt twisted his mouth, and further explained. It was a common enough question, asking why a twenty four year old guy had his occupation, but Thomas was hoping Newt wouldn't mention it. He looked down.

"Um, wow, that's a, um, really long, uh, story," Thomas stuttered. Newt looked concerned.

"Oh, I'm so sorry, I didn't think it was so personal..." Thomas shook his head quickly.

"No, its fine, its fine." Thomas took a deep breath. "When I was, oh god, I think, sixteen? No seventeen, I was seventeen, my little brother, Chuck, he was diagnosed with cancer. Leukemia, I think. And the doctors kept on saying that he would be fine, that we caught it early, and all. Then Chuck got sicker, and the doctors kept saying he'd be okay..." A tear rolled down his cheek. "Then one day, out of the blue, they said he had about five months left. Like, apparently he was going into remission before, but then it just, like, flared up?  And then it got even worse, and, and he died two months later." Thomas took another deep breath.

"I hated those doctors for so long. They told me they would save him, and I just couldn’t believe they lied to me. I promised myself that I wouldn't let that happen to anyone again. So I worked hard in school, got into a good college, then-"

"Didn't get into med school?" Newt finished. Thomas frowned at Newt’s statement. He didn't like that he assumed that he was too dumb to get into med school.

"No, I got into med school, but I couldn't stand the sight of blood, and intestines, and injury all together. So I changed my major, and now I'm here," Thomas finished. He was pretty sure Newt wasn’t expecting that answer, because neither of them said a word for a while. Then, ever so hesitantly, Newt extended his hand and grabbed Thomas', entwining his cold fingers with Thomas' warm ones. Thomas glanced at their two hands for a second, then kept perfectly still.

"My father died in action. Right after I got my degree. I was eighteen," Newt mused, ending the peaceful silence. "He was never proud of me. He was a military man, why would he care about a space scientist? My father only thought physical strength and ability was important. He couldn't even pronounce astrometerology," he paused.

"My mother gave me his tags, when I came back for the funeral. I've worn them ever since." With his free hand, Newt traced the back of his neck, pulling the chain out of his shirt. He smoothed his thumb over the beaten up pieces of metal. Now that he thought of it, he remembered Newt wearing them before, but Thomas assumed they were his. However, now that they weren't hidden by the fabric, Thomas could see the name James Newton printed on the side in all caps. "That's why I joined. I thought, maybe I couldn't impress him when he was alive, but maybe he'd see me now, wherever he went." Unlike Thomas, Newt shed no tears for his dead family member. He stared straight ahead, not a single expression crossing his face, like the first time Thomas had met him.

"Do you ever regret it?" Thomas asked with a gravelly voice. Newt snapped out of his trance and turned to face Thomas.

"Not for one second."

Thomas didn't let go of Newt’s hand until he fell asleep.


End file.
